Writer’s Twitter Thread About Her Office Screw-Up Is The Best Story Of The Year

L.A.-based writer and blogger Quinn Cummings is no stranger to the types of jobs where bosses are terrifying and mistakes are unforgivable. Her recent recollection of an office screw-up story from her past, was so well-told, such an insane and funny ride from beginning to end, that it began to go viral and trend as a Twitter Moment. It didn’t hurt that there were celebrities involved, as well.

“Whatever you do in your office today, this week, the rest of this year, you can console yourself by recalling this tale,” she writes.

Gather round, Gentle Readers. It is time I tell the story of the worst decision I ever made in an office. Some of you have heard this. Some have not. Whatever you do in your office today, this week, the rest of this year, you can console yourself by recalling this tale.

She described Susan Smith’s negotiation abilities, praising her talent and drive. And also said that “she was insane.”

2. She could negotiate a deal like few who have ever trod the earth. Casting would give her all the money they had budgeted for that part, plus a little more, plus promising to get her dog Barnaby groomed. She was magnificent to watch.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “Quinn, it’s the entertainment industry, they are all insane.” Yes, many are. So consider this; if you told someone you worked for Susan, people who worked for insane people would look and you and whisper, “I hear she’s insane.”

In fact, Susan Smith was known as an insane person industry-wide.

Volatile, capable off toggling between rage-screaming and whispered tears in 90 seconds. An unerring instinct at knowing exactly what you doubted about yourself and musing aloud about it. A level of vitriol to subordinates that was outlawed by the 13th Amendment.

Though she had her quirks, Susan was a loyal and dedicated agent. Particularly to her two favorite clients, Kathy Bates and Brian Dennehy.

But oh, did she love her clients. She had no husband, no children; her clients were everything. Specifically, Kathy Bates and Brian Dennehy. She had discovered both of them when they were doing off-off-off-Near Hackensack-Broadway. She adored them. One could argue she made them.

For those unfamiliar, Kathy Bates is the goddess who starred in incredible films like Misery, Titanic,Dolores Claiborne, and, for the millennials among you, American Horror Story. Brian Dennehy you might recognize from First Blood, Silverado, Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, and as Big Tom from 1995 classic Tommy Boy.

Quinn recalls how Dennehy’s goal was to act in Arthur Miller’s Death Of A Salesman onstage. “With superhuman strength and negotiating prowess,” Susan made it happen for him.

For years, Brian had wanted to do DEATH OF A SALESMAN on the stage, in Chicago. For years, for a number of reasons, it hadn’t happened. Finally, with superhuman strength and negotiating prowess on Susan’s part, DEATH, with the perfect director on the stage Brian wanted, went up.

Lucky for Dennehy, who raked in the accolades and even ended up winning a Tony for his performance.

Brian got the kinds of reviews he deserved. The play was a huge hit. So huge, in fact, that it went to Broadway. Again, Susan hammered out the seemingly endless details of moving a production to a Broadway theater. She went to the opening. The reviews were love letters to Brian.

Susan was ecstatic. But the real joy came when Brian won the Tony for his performance. I watched it at home and I was 99% thrilled for Brian and 1% thrilled for us at the office. Susan had a tendency to walk in the door screaming instructions and grievances.

Susan Smith had every right to be overjoyed.

I was now an agent, not her assistant, but Susan didn’t hold with such distinctions. We all got screamed at, we all became miserable, we all started whatever self-soothing behavior allowed us to not cry in the hallway. At the very least, Brian’s win would delight her.

But there was one big problem.

A big, big problem.

The next morning, we walked around with the resigned despair of a tank of sentient lobsters. We were all to be boiled alive, it was just a matter of when. Susan flew in the door, raced to her office, slammed the door shut. The quiet was actually worse.

A big, big, problem that Susan’s assistant thought he’d found the solution to.

At lunch, her assistant “Chet” slid into my office. He had the look of a man who had been screamed at for five hours. He asked a favor. Brian had called him; he was aghast he had forgotten to thank Susan, the woman who had made his dream come true. He thought he had a solution.

Chet just needed one thing.

He would put a full-page ad in both VARIETY and HOLLYWOOD REPORTER, the daily trade papers read by everyone, thanking her. It was to be a surprise. The only thing Brian had needed from the Chet was a picture of her to put in the ad. Problem was, Chet couldn’t find one.

Quinn realized she had the power to help.

I smiled, because I did. Susan, like many women of a certain age, wasn’t terribly fond of having her picture taken but it so happened there was a picture of her on the side-table in her office. Susan loved decorating, nothing was by chance, she must have liked that picture.

We got it, Chet slid it out, overnighted it to Brian, we crossed our fingers she wouldn’t notice the picture was gone for a day. Even if she did, the ad was to appear the following day; after such a loving gesture, who could be angry with us?

The next day, we all waited breathlessly for her to walk in the back door from the parking lot, down the long hallways, past each of our offices. For once, she wouldn’t be screaming. I wondered if she would hug me. I decided it was a small price to pay.

Twitter got a kick out of Quinn’s story, particularly from many others who had known or worked with Susan Smith. The thread drew the attention of Kathleen Dennehy, Brian Dennehy’s daughter, who wrote about how perfectly Quinn described the talent agent.

Quinn, you might not remember me but we met at the office. Susan repped me for a little while until I also ‘had to move my car’. But as Brian Dennehy’s daughter, I can tell you this. You describe Susan perfectly and my dad misses her every single hour of every single day. Thx.

Besides coming full circle, Quinn’s delicious narration of the perfect office mess-up was both relatable and totally movie-like—which is appropriate, all things considered. So, as Patton Oswald suggests, next time you make a mistake at the office? Just remember Quinn’s story.